When George Met Lennie
by Absi B
Summary: Just a quick story detailing how the intrepid duo first met. Written whilst bored and understimulated during an English class when studying the book. K- plus for mild language.


**A/N: Hello! This is just a short backstory to how the two main characters in Of Mice and Men first met. Yes, I know it mentions how they met (well, sort of) in the book, but I hope you enjoy my take on their first meeting nonetheless. Don't forget to let me know about what you think!**

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I've known Lennie for a long time. Not since we were kids, but definitely for more years than I want to think about. He's almost like a pet, 'cause he never does anything for himself. He relies on me, as I rely on him; our mutual need for each other ensures we stay together. If Lennie didn't have me, he'd end up living like a caveman or somewhere, or maybe just dead, shot by some farmer with a gun or starved for too long. If I didn't have Lennie, I'd probably be spending my days perpetually angry, drowning my sorrows with liquor and girls at some backstreet bar in town.

Some time ago I (I don't care to remember how long it was) I first saw Lennie. He was bumbling around in that typical way of his. I thought he was drunk at first. He was wandering around, this weird happy expression on his face, right outside a bar. Turned out that he'd just been kicked out of the bar for almost killing a man (but I only found this out later. It's one of the few things he can remember on his own). The sheriff was sauntering down the main road, and I just ran forward and shoved him down a side street nearby. I don't know what made me do it; I guess it's just this impulse I've got that makes me help out people like that. His balance wasn't too good, and, despite the fact that he must have been a good eight inches taller and much heavier than me, he toppled over like a stool with one leg missing. I stood and watched him scuffle awkwardly in the dirt for a good few moments; my stranger-helping impulse only goes as far as getting them out of immediate danger. When he finally managed to right himself and get to his feet, the first words he said to me were, "Who're you?"

His voice was immature, childish; there was a funny way in which he couldn't quite pronounce his r's; the same dumb grin was still plastered on his face.

"It doesn't matter. Just keep yourself out of the main street. The sheriff doesn't like drunks on display in his town." I actually surprised myself with the harshness of my words, and as I watched the big man's face crumpled and he began to sob like an infant. But my heart was hard, so I just patted his back briefly and moved on. For me, he was out of sight and out of mind now. Within minutes of leaving the alleyway, I was back minding my own business; the strange, infantile man had already been pushed firmly to the back of my mind. He was lucky I hadn't erased the memory of him forever.

Since I was just passing through this town, I was lodging at this cheap run down inn. Full of cheap girls and cheap alcohol- just the way I liked it. I didn't even have any permanent home here, but he still managed to find me. It was a wonder he did too, considering his simple nature and lack of intelligence. I walked down from my room the next morning to find him hunching over a newspaper just outside the door. When I closed the door to the inn and started down the street, I could feel (well, actually I could hear) his heavy footsteps behind me. I continued for as long as I could, trying to ignore my new stalker, until coincidence led me down the same alley as yesterday. I started down the alley, then stopped and turned to face him.

"What do you want?" Any patience I had had with this man was wearing thin.

"Well… I was just… you were the one… yesterday? Who're you?" I sighed. I figured I might as well give this oaf what he wanted so he'd just go away.

"My name's George. And yes, that was me. Now will you please go away?"

"George…?" Geez. He can't even pronounce my name right. The 'g' becomes a 'd', and apparently the 'e' has disappeared completely.

"I don't have time for this," I snapped, turning sharply on my heel and starting back down the alley. But the man just kept following me like an annoying dog.

"My name's… Lennie," he said, trotting along behind me like an irritating terrier. The newspaper he'd been reading (or pretending to read) dangled, forgotten, from his right hand.

"Pleased to meet you. Now get the hell away from me," I replied sharply, waving a dismissive hand in his direction as my pace never faltered. I kept walking, trying to keep my eyes forward when I knew that, all around me, people were turning theirs towards me. The strange glances I got from people that day continually reminded me of my follower, and his hulking shadow just behind me made sure I never forgot also.

He followed me all day, sometimes waiting outside a store or bar while I went in. One time, I stayed in the same bar for three hours, just ordering a couple of drinks and whiling away the time listening to someone playing the piano very badly. It was like he was playing with his feet or something. When I finally tired of the piano player and walked outside, he was still there. Still there! After three hours, Lennie was still sitting outside the door, waiting for me, staring stupidly at his now- crumpled newspaper. When I moved into his field of vision, he surreptitiously (or at least, he tried to be that way) lowered the paper and peeked out at me. When he caught my eye, he lowered the paper fully and smiled his goofy smile at me.

"You look… familiar. Who're you?" His same question repeated was beginning to annoy me.

"Goddammit! I told you my name not five hours ago! Have you forgotten already?" My temper is usually very short; this infuriating man halved its length.

"I'm… I'm sorry…" he stuttered. "I forget… a lot of things. I'm Lennie." He smiled at this last fact, as if remembering something brought some kind of special joy to his heart. I think this was probably the first moment where my heart of stone began to crack.

"George," I sigh once more, this time sticking out my hand. Lennie takes it gently, as if he's unsure about what to do with it. I start to move my hand slowly up and down, and Lennie joins in pretty quickly, pumping my arm up and down. As he does so, I realise the huge muscle power this man must possess; my hand is close to being crushed by the seemingly effortless grip he has, and his violent shaking is threatening to tear my shoulder from its socket. Eventually, I manage to tickle his palm and make him let go; I remove my hand, shaking it as the blood rushes back.

"That tickled!" he exclaimed, looking at me in the way that only Lennie can. It's a mixture of innocence and bliss, I suppose. He smiles at me, his slightly misaligned teeth making his appearance even goofier, and, despite myself, I smile back.

At this point, the hard shell protecting the soft heart underneath is definitely showing signs of cracking. I then do something that I never thought I would. Now that I think about it, this was the defining moment in our relationship. If I'd rejected him, told him to go away, I wouldn't be where I am now. If I'd rejected him, I'd be picking up jobs and maybe even keeping them for a while before having to move on. I wouldn't have to spend my days constantly watching his back as well as my own. I wouldn't have to remember everything so he wouldn't have to.

My life would certainly be a lot easier. But… I don't know whether I'd choose to live without him. He's like my rock, my peaceful oasis in a turbulent ocean of temper. Whenever I lose it, whenever I give in to my anger and just let it loose, all it takes is one glance at his face to set me straight again. And to this day, it's never failed to calm me down. I guess it's something about his innocence and simple nature that makes him the perfect friend, but simultaneously the nightmare friend. He'll never have your back, and he can't read, or remember his three times table, but he's strong and always willing to fight his corner (and yours, if he cares for you enough). There's enough good in Lennie to balance out his failings, for sure.

He turned away from me, muttering something under his breath about tickling.

"I guess... this is goodbye?" he says haltingly, not turning back to look at me. These final pitiful words overturn my decision to get rid of him as quickly as possible, and I say hastily, "No. Wait. You can come and stay with me for a while. I'm leaving town tomorrow morning to find work, and you can come with me then, if you like." He turned back to face me, slowly, and suddenly gripped my hand in that vice that is his. I winced slightly as he shook my hand once more, all the while muttering, "Yes, yes, yes," under his breath. His unbridled happiness that day seeped a little into me too. I smiled for the first time in a long while. There's probably one main cause for my iron-heartedness, but that's a story for another time.

So, I took him back to my room at the inn, and he took the rocking chair sitting idly in the corner as a place to sleep. I shoved a blanket and pillow at him, and, after arranging them meticulously for a few minutes, settled down and fell asleep right away. Sighing, I followed suit, climbing wearily into bed and letting the events of the past day wash over me as my weariness dragged me down into a reluctant sleep.

The next morning, I was shaken awake by an enthusiastic Lennie. "Come on, George. Wake up! We're going now!" His never-ending joviality still amuses me. There is pretty much nothing that can put his mood anywhere below insanely happy, unless I insult him personally. For some reason, it's the one thing that makes him blub like a baby. I think that because it's from me, he thinks it's super serious, and he hangs on my every word, so he takes any insult from me right to the heart.

"Alright, I'm coming," I mumbled mulishly. I'm never one for rising early, and anytime I'm rudely awakened like this I'm extra irritated. I pulled myself out of bed, and washed, shaved and dressed. In the time I did this, Lennie had already dashed out to the store opposite and bought some freshly baked rolls. I don't even know where he got the money from; I doubted that he could have earned it himself, what with him being a simpleton and utterly unemployable. Since the rolls were wrapped in sensible paper, I decided to take them on the road with us. We set out from the inn fairly early, partly because of Lennie's eagerness, and partly because in the middle of the day the heat was nigh on unbearable and no man would be caught walking in it.

As we walked, I kept on asking myself why I chose to let this guy into my life. I thought about how I've pretty much kept to myself throughout my lifetime, only caring for my family during the brief time their existences coincided with mine. I thought about why I chose such a man to spend time with; there were a million other men who were way smarter than him. There was never any man stronger than he, though.

As we walked towards the rising sun, our silhouettes stretching out behind us, I was lost in my thoughts and Lennie was off wherever he goes to pass the time. The only noises were those of the early birds and the singing crickets; everything was peaceful and blissful, almost like the scenes inside my head had been recreated in real life. Wordlessly, we strode towards Weed- where our first job hunt would take place.


End file.
